


Get Me Past the Ghost of You

by idoltina, penguinutopia



Series: Find My Way [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alcohol, Explicit Language, Gen, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:09:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idoltina/pseuds/idoltina, https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinutopia/pseuds/penguinutopia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three conversations Sebastian has at Kurt and Blaine’s wedding reception and one conversation he doesn’t (and one more conversation he has begrudgingly).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Me Past the Ghost of You

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings** adult language, alcohol, smoking

Sebastian has never been one for weddings. He thinks they’re an unnecessary, unrealistic spectacle, still too deeply rooted in ridiculous and cliched heteronormative traditions. He’s never really been a big supporter of marriage in general, regardless of the parties involved. He’s never been one to get too attached and it’s a huge waste of money to throw a party for other people. He supposes the plus side is that marriage potentially means more prenups and divorces, which means more work for him. And if people are going to waste money, well, at least they’re wasting some of it on him.

His disdain for marriage has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he’s currently tucked away in a corner table in the reception hall after his ex-boyfriend’s wedding.

Absolutely nothing.

The thing is, Sebastian isn’t a very emotional person. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like Blaine does. He’s certainly grown more comfortable in his own skin in the last year, and maybe he sees a little more Norma Jean than Marilyn now, but Blaine was right: Sebastian has always known how to keep up appearances, and if someone were to photograph him now, he’d be sure they captured the Marilyn.

Honestly, he’s kind of proud of how well he’s kept it together tonight. This isn’t the first wedding he’s attended and he’s never been much of a crier anyway, so getting through the ceremony hadn’t been all that difficult (and if he tried tuning out their vows, well, no one has to know that). Thus far, he’s managed to get through the early parts of the reception with relative ease. His table is well-stocked with champagne and wine and he’s taking advantage of all of it (which he knows he’ll pay for tomorrow morning, but he honestly doesn’t care because he’s pretty sure he’s going to need to be at least mildly inebriated to get through the rest of the evening). The alcohol is there for him with each nauseating toast and serenade and dance. And people are mostly leaving him alone in his dark little corner, hardly sparing him a second glance. It’s kind of nice, honestly, and if he gets a few more drinks in him, he might even find it in him to see if Santana wants to dance.

Someone takes the seat next to him in the shadows, and Sebastian does a double-take when he realizes that it’s Blaine’s father. “Theo,” he greets, voice faltering a little. The name feels weird on his tongue -- he hasn’t said it so long, has hardly spoken to Blaine’s father since their break-up over four years ago. He doesn’t know how much Blaine’s father knows -- about him, about the break-up, about the reconciliation, about anything, really.

“Sebastian,” Theo returns, much more warmly. “I, um --” He huffs out an awkward laugh and rubs at the back of his neck, so much like Blaine that Sebastian’s stomach churns a little. “I imagine this must be a little awkward for you.”

Sebastian shrugs noncommittally and shifts his gaze back out onto the dance floor. “We’re friends. It’s not like I’m not happy for him.”

“I just -- he didn’t want to talk about you much, for a while there, when he first moved out here,” Theo ventures. He’s fishing, that much is obvious, but if Blaine hasn’t given him much to go on, Sebastian’s certainly not going to help fill in the gaps.

“I imagine he didn’t,” Sebastian agrees.

“But you’re friends now.”

“As much as two exes can be friends, I guess,” Sebastian sighs, already wanting the conversation to be over.

“I’m sorry if I’m prying,” Theo says, and he sounds sincere which reminds Sebastian of Blaine and god, he really needs another drink. “It’s just -- there was a time when Marisol and I thought that this might be you, instead.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not,” Sebastian bites out, just barely keeping his composure. He empties the rest of a bottle of wine into his glass and takes a large drink before trusting himself to say anything else. “I think you got a better son-in-law out of the deal, though.” Sebastian can feel Theo’s eyes on him but doesn’t give in, doesn’t take the bait.

“Blaine said you were looking for someone serious,” Theo tries after a moment. “At the time, he thought that meant coming out here and going to Harvard, but I think -- he never told me what happened, exactly.” And there’s the truth, the real reason Blaine’s father is even over here talking to Sebastian at all. “It’s just -- you seemed happy together. I never really understood why you broke it off.”

Sebastian swirls the wine in his glass and tries not to feel weighed down with disappointment. “Blaine’s lucky to have you and Marisol as parents,” he says, voice falsely bright. He looks back up at Theo, finally, and offers a tight smile. “You’ve really looked out for him and let him be his own person.”

Theo smiles, and Sebastian takes another gulp of wine. “Well, we’re lucky to have him,” he says, and Sebastian breathes a little easier knowing that Blaine’s father didn’t pick up on Sebastian’s true meaning. “We’re very proud of him. We just want him to be happy.” Together, they turn to look out at the reception hall to where Blaine is having a rather animated discussion with Tina. After a moment, though, Blaine’s eyes drift over to where Kurt is sitting at a table with his father, and the newlyweds exchange a smile.

“He’s happy,” Sebastian sighs, trying not to sound reluctant and bitter.

“I think you’re partially to thank for that.”

Sebastian arches an eyebrow and blinks over at Theo in surprise. “How so?” he laughs.

“You’re the reason he came out here at all,” Theo reasons. “Marisol and I weren’t completely sold on the idea when he first mentioned it to us, but he’s really come into his own. I don’t know where he’d be if he hadn’t followed you out here. I don’t know that I want to know. It took him a while to find his footing, but I think this is where he’s meant to be. I think he’s really found his calling. I mean, I know he’s just getting started, still, but he really loves being able to help people. He likes making a difference.”

“Blaine _is_ infectious,” Sebastian agrees, taking another drink to get rid of the bitter taste of truth in his mouth. “Boston definitely wouldn’t be the same without him.”

_I wouldn’t be the same without him._

Thankfully, Sebastian is spared from having to make any more awkward small talk with Blaine’s father. Marisol calls him over to their table, and it’s with an afterthought of a wave goodbye that Theo pushes himself out of the chair next to Sebastian and goes to join her. As he watches Theo walk away, Sebastian realizes that the conversation they’ve just had would have gone so much differently if he were in Kurt’s shoes today. Sebastian would be talking to Theo -- and Marisol -- as a son-in-law instead of their son’s enigma of an ex. Maybe there would be polite pleasantries, or maybe they’d be comfortable enough around each other to hold a real conversation. Maybe they’d be happy to have him as part of their family because he made Blaine happy. Maybe their toast would have included him, instead.

Maybe.

But the maybe of it all is useless -- Blaine is married to Kurt, now, and Sebastian’s place tonight is in a darkened corner with too many empty bottles and a thirst for more liquor.

With great effort, Sebastian tears his eyes away from the newly-formed family and pushes himself out of his seat and toward the open bar.

* * * * *

It takes less than an hour for Sebastian to start second-guessing his decision to take up camp at the bar. The bar is more well-lit in comparison to his previous table in the corner, which makes it a little more difficult to hide. It also makes it difficult to be surreptitious in his people-watching (and he _is_ people-watching, not Blaine-watching, because he’s not a creep and he can’t actually look at Blaine too long tonight or else it might hurt too much). He also feels a little like he’s on display when he’s facing the rest of the reception hall, and while ordinarily he wouldn’t mind the attention, tonight it makes him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. He doesn’t want people looking too closely. He’s good at keeping up appearances, but he’s also working his way to being fairly drunk and he’s not entirely sure he trusts himself not to slip up.

It strikes him as stupidly self-absorbed to think that he would draw that much attention tonight. Tonight isn’t about him. Tonight is about Kurt and Blaine.

Sebastian finishes off his current beer and turns back to request another from the bartender.

Instead, he finds himself face to face with Wes.

“Sebastian,” Wes says shortly, leaning against the bar.

“Wes,” Sebastian sighs. “Beer?”

Wes arches his eyebrows at him but settles in more comfortable. “Sure.” Sebastian signals the bartender for two more and lets Wes pick up his own bottle, immediately taking a swig of his own. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

Sebastian turns his attention back to the reception hall, not wanting to give Wes the satisfaction of looking him in the eye. “I’m his friend, same as you. I’m here because he invited me.”

“That’s not what I’m questioning,” Wes argues, and god, being at a wedding reception with a bunch of lawyers is more annoying than Sebastian would’ve thought. He’s good -- he _knows_ he’s good, but being around people who do what he does for a living, who think like he does, means he has to think on his feet, and that really puts a damper on his plans to get drunk enough to numb the ache in his chest. “I’m just wondering how long you’re going to stick it out. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve bailed on him.”

Wes’ comment is _low_ , but Sebastian tries to keep his composure and settles for working his jaw in frustration. “You are not the first person to try and get information out of me tonight about my break-up with Blaine, Wes, and you probably won’t be the last. But --since we’ve known each other so long, I’ll be honest with you,” Sebastian says, glancing over at him with a wry smirk. “It’s really none of your fucking business.”

“You _made it_ my business,” Wes throws back, and even though he’s putting up a fight, Sebastian feels a smug satisfaction in watching Wes’ fingers flex in an agitated fashion around his bottle. “You left me to pick up the pieces -- me and Sugar and Kurt. _Kurt_ helped put him back together. _Kurt_ was the one who helped him realize that he was so much more than what you’d let him think he was.”

“And look whose reception we’re at,” Sebastian bites out. “So quit the ridiculous best friend act and tell me what you really want.”

“I just want to know _why_ ,” Wes says. “I know that whatever happened between you guys is your business -- I get that, fine, whatever. But I just don’t _get it_. I’ve spent the last four years trying to figure out why you had to go and hurt him like that when I _know_ that you loved him.”

“Not all of us have parents whose wishes for us line up with our dreams,” Sebastian answers shortly. “I’m not _you_ , Wes, and I never will be. So do me a favor and get off of your fucking high horse and leave me the hell alone.”

“He deserved better than you lying to him,” Wes says, dropping his voice, and god, Sebastian wishes he would just shut up already.

“Yeah, well.” Sebastian shifts his eyes over to the dance floor where the newlyweds are dancing cheek to cheek, and he has to down half of his beer in one long gulp to stomach the sight of it. “Blaine got what he deserved in the end, didn’t he?”

* * * * *

Sebastian is halfway through his third gin and tonic (he’s lost count of how many drinks he’s had tonight, number and variety) and is finally, blissfully, more than a little bit drunk enough to stick out the rest of the night when he sees someone settle down onto the stool next to him at the bar in his peripheral vision. He’s about to make a half-nod in acknowledgement, not really in the mood for small talk, but he stops himself when he sees who it is. Sebastian sucks in a breath and swivels around on his own bar stool to face the crowd in the reception hall. “Kurt.”

“Sebastian.”

“Enjoying your night?” Sebastian asks, taking a larger sip than is strictly necessary.

“I am,” Kurt affirms, all civility and politeness. Even though they’re not looking at each other, Sebastian can follow Kurt’s gaze easily enough to where Blaine is twirling Sugar around on the dance floor to an old Alicia Keys song. She looks good for just having had a baby three months ago, and wow, Sebastian is a little more drunk than he thought. But Blaine -- Blaine is _breathtaking_ as always. He’s removed his jacket by this point in the evening, but in a lot of ways, that’s kind of almost worse for Sebastian. Blaine’s suit is tailored to perfection and shows off every one of his assets, and without the jacket and even with the stupid pink bowtie, it’s enough to let Sebastian’s mind wander. He knows what’s underneath the clothes, knows how tiny Blaine’s waist is, remembers the muscles in his arms and thighs and the delicious curve of his ass and the dip near his collar bone and --

God, Sebastian really had no idea how much it would suck to be at his ex’s wedding.

He downs the rest of his gin and tonic in one go and sets the glass on the bar with a slightly too-loud _clunk_ , motioning silently at the bartender for another. He catches Kurt’s eye as he picks up the fresh glass and tries to ignore the way Kurt’s eyebrow arches at him. “Blaine seems to be enjoying himself,” Sebastian ventures, because it’s all he can allow himself to focus on tonight, how happy this is making Blaine, how happy _Kurt_ makes Blaine.

Sebastian inhales sharply and just barely refrains from emptying his glass again. How much more drunk does he have to be to get through the rest of tonight? To get through the rest of this conversation?

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees quietly. “He’s… really something.”

And for the first and probably only time that night, Sebastian’s smile feels a little genuine. “Yeah, he is.”

A pause, and then, “I know you’re still in love with him.”

If Sebastian weren’t as drunk as he is, if the statement were any less true, if he had any fight left in him, he’d probably tense up or protest or try to change the subject. But the room is a little fuzzy and he’s starting to lose himself in the music and he can’t take his eyes off of Blaine and he’s just… so _tired_. He takes a long drink to buy himself a little more time, smacks his lips, and owns up to it. “You’re not wrong about that.”

“You never really stopped,” Kurt adds. It’s not a question.

Sebastian grips his glass a little too tight and looks sharply over at Kurt. “Do you want me to leave?”

Kurt blinks over at him, clearly a little caught off guard, and he doesn’t look hostile at all. “No,” he says slowly. “Not at all.”

The frustration in Sebastian’s gut twists into guilt, and he drops his gaze to his glass. “You don’t have to worry,” he says. “It’s not like I’m going to try to --”

“-- win him back?” Kurt finishes for him. “I know. I figure if you were going to make any attempts, you would’ve done it long before now. But more than that -- I trust him.”

Sebastian laughs hollowly. “Blaine is nothing if not devoted.”

“That’s… actually kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” Kurt ventures, sounding hesitant. Sebastian glances back up at him, a little taken aback, but the alcohol is too warm in his chest for him to say anything. “Look, I just -- I know Blaine cares about you.”

“He doesn’t love me,” Sebastian points out, as painful as it is to say it. “Not the way he used to. Not the way he loves you.”

“I know,” Kurt sighs, gesturing toward the bartender for something. “But he did, once. And I’m never going to worry about him falling in love with you again and leaving me. It’s just not going to happen. Not --” He cuts himself off abruptly, breathing harshly through his nose, and Sebastian knows what Kurt was going to say even if he didn’t say it.

_Not after the way you hurt him._

Kurt turns on the stool to face him and exhales slowly, clearly trying to stay calm and not be hostile. “I have a favor to ask.”

Sebastian barks out a bitter laugh, he can’t help it. “Seriously?”

“Consider it a wedding present,” Kurt says dryly, and the remark has the desired effect: Sebastian works his jaw, but he shuts up. Kurt draws in a breath and squares his shoulders, almost like he’s in court, and even though he’s only got a few years on Sebastian, it makes Sebastian feel almost stupidly childish.

Maybe he is stupidly childish. He’s drowning his sorrows in alcohol because he can’t handle being at his ex’s wedding.

“If anything ever happens to me,” Kurt says, lowering his voice, and here, Sebastian sees him lose some of his resolve, softening a little around the edges. “If anything ever happens to me, and Blaine’s had an appropriate amount of time to mourn --”

“Okay, stop,” Sebastian huffs, setting his glass down on the bar. “You’re being ridiculous. Didn’t Blaine promise you -- what was it -- _fearlessly and forever_ or something?”

A smile blooms onto Kurt’s face, almost like he can’t help it. “He did,” Kurt allows, trying to school his features into something more serious again. “But in the event that I die --”

“I am really not comfortable with where this conversation is going.”

“Will you just… let me finish?” Kurt bites out, flexing his fingers around a water bottle the bartender’s given him. “This is about Blaine, and if you care about him the way I know you do, you’ll just… listen, okay?” Sebastian squirms uncomfortably and looks away again, wanting desperately to finish his drink. “If anything ever happens to me and Blaine eventually falls in love with you again, I just want you to promise me you won’t hurt him again.”

Sebastian’s brow wrinkles in confusion, but he doesn’t look up from his glass. “So what -- if I pity-bang him, you want me to be in it for the long haul or something?”

“What? You’re not going to -- god, how drunk are you right now?” Kurt huffs.

“I have no idea,” Sebastian laughs, because the world doesn’t make any fucking sense right now, and he downs the rest of his drink, loving the way it burns on the way down.

Kurt pries the glass out of his hands and sets it on the bar before pushing the water bottle into Sebastian’s hands. It occurs to Sebastian, then, that they’ve never actually touched before. These are the fingers that get to touch Blaine now, get to hold him and love him and make him fall apart, and in his drunken stupor, Sebastian is struck with the stupid desire to break all of Kurt’s fingers.

God, he is so fucked up.

Kurt doesn’t pull his hand away, and it’s the prolonged contact that makes Sebastian finally look up at him again. Sebastian is so _tired_ , and Kurt knows that he has feelings for Blaine and is talking about a future that is never going to happen and Sebastian just wants this to be over with. “Promise me,” Kurt says firmly.

“I know I fucked up,” Sebastian says thinly. “And I have lived with it every day for almost five years. Believe me, if I ever got another shot with him, I wouldn’t screw it up. I never wanted to hurt him.”

“I believe you,” Kurt says gently. “I just needed to hear it.”

Sebastian pulls his hand away and unscrews the cap on the bottle, taking a long drink. He closes his eyes as he screws the cap back on, wishing that the world would make sense for once. “So what,” he says, opening his eyes, “you’re giving me your blessing to be the person Blaine moves on with if you die?”

“If that’s what he wants,” Kurt says, quiet. “I’d rather it be you than someone else.”

“Why?”

“Because I meant it when I said I believed that you don’t want to hurt him,” Kurt says simply. “And I can get a promise straight out of your mouth now, here, in person, that you won’t. I can’t do that with anyone else.”

Sebastian tries to study him for a minute, but the alcohol still has a strong hold on him and everything’s still a little fuzzy around the edges. He takes another swig of water and tries to get his brain to work properly for a minute. “This is an awfully morbid thing to be discussing at your wedding reception.” The corner of Kurt’s mouth twitches, almost like he’s trying not to smile, and somehow Sebastian’s brain finally catches up to the game they’re playing. “Oh, fuck you,” he snaps, turning away to look at the reception hall. “You did this on purpose. You tried to get to me when I was vulnerable.”

“I succeeded, actually,” Kurt says conversationally. “Look, most of the time I am exactly the person Blaine sees me as. I’m honest. I’m fair. I have integrity. I don’t like to fight dirty. But we all went to the same law school. We’re all in the same profession. Just because I don’t like to exploit someone’s weaknesses doesn’t mean I don’t know how. It’s useful sometimes.”

“Does your new husband know about this side of you?” Sebastian drawls.

“He knows enough,” Kurt says vaguely. “You can’t blame me for wanting to wait until _after_ the wedding before telling him that his ex still has feelings for him.”

“Don’t,” Sebastian says, and it comes out less sharp than he intended because it’s like a knife to his heart, all of it. He squeezes the bottle in his hand so tight that it makes a grating, crinkling sound. He wants another drink. He just wants the pain to go away. He just wants to stop talking. He just wants this night to be over. “Don’t tell him.”

“You can’t ask me to do that,” Kurt throws back, and god, they don’t know each other that well and Sebastian can still tell when Kurt’s slipping into lawyer-mode. “I’m planning on telling him everything that I told you, Sebastian.”

“Don’t,” Sebastian says again, and this time it’s a request. “They’re not your feelings to share. Just… don’t.”

“I’m not --”

“Kurt, _please_ ,” Sebastian says thickly, eyes still trained firmly in front of him. “This is really selfish of me, but I don’t --” Here, he stops, looks down at the bottle in his hands and relaxes his grip. “If you tell him, there is absolutely no way that we can be friends any more. And I’d rather only have his friendship than not have him in my life at all, okay?”

“You’re just _torturing_ yourself,” Kurt points out.

“And that’s _my_ choice,” Sebastian says emphatically, daring to flick his eyes back up at Kurt. “So just… don’t tell him, okay?”

Kurt gives him a once over, works his jaw and sighs a little dramatically. “If he asks, I’m not going to lie.”

“I’ll take it,” Sebastian says quickly, knowing that’s probably the best he can get.

God, he’s pathetic.

He turns his attention back to the dance floor and nods in Blaine’s direction. “Go dance with your husband,” he encourages, needing Kurt to be anywhere but next to him right now. He can feel Kurt hesitate next to him, but after a moment or two of silence, Kurt pushes himself to his feet and takes the suggestion for what it is -- a desperate dismissal. He crosses the room and slides an arm around Blaine’s waist, smile back in place, genuine and warm.

Sebastian pretends not to notice the way Kurt holds Blaine a little tighter as they sway on the dance floor.

He needs another drink.

* * * * *

He does, eventually, switch over to water. He doesn’t want to get completely shitfaced, even if Santana is driving him home, and he doesn’t have any aspirin or anything to help curb any ailments. He could eat something to help soak up the alcohol, but he’d barely been able to stomach the dinner earlier and doesn’t want to take his chances. So he slowly works his way through a second bottle of water and tries drowning out the din around him. He can’t imagine he’ll have to stick this out much longer, it’s been _hours_ and --

It takes him a few seconds to register the warm hand on the small of his back, a few more to lift his head and glance over and --

_Blaine._

Blaine’s hand is solid and reassuring against the small of Sebastian’s back, and just like that, Sebastian feels all of the tension melt out of him. He returns Blaine’s brilliant smile with his own, easy and unaffected, and there is absolutely no one else in the room. Blaine looks at him and Sebastian is all Norma Jean, Marilyn nowhere to be found. This is what it would be like, Sebastian thinks, if he’d been the one to marry Blaine tonight. That spark in Blaine’s eye would be for him, that hand would always be there, the ring would be one he’d picked out.

Sebastian remembers when he’d first come back from Paris to start their second year at Harvard. He remembers meeting Blaine for coffee and realizing that he’d never be immune to Blaine, that his vacation had been just that -- a vacation from his real life. In a lot of ways, it’s what their entire relationship had felt like, back in California during undergrad. Sebastian went into it knowing that it was going to end, that it was basically a dream that he knew he was going to have to wake up from.

By the time that Sebastian sort of got his act together and grew a pair of balls and took his life into his own hands in order to start creating his own reality instead of a facade of one, the part of his dream he’d wanted to make a reality -- Blaine -- had been and still is unattainable. It's never going to be more than what it was, which is a dream.

But here, now, in the reception hall after Blaine’s wedding to someone else with copious amounts of alcohol in Sebastian’s system and Blaine’s hand on him, eyes locked and smile wide, Sebastian can’t help but feel caught up in the dream again.

Just as quickly as he falls into it, Sebastian is woken up from the dream as Blaine’s hand starts to fall away from him, smile faltering. Blaine’s being pulled off in some other direction by someone -- Sebastian really has no idea who and he honestly doesn’t care -- and Blaine casts an apologetic smile in Sebastian’s direction as he allows himself to be dragged away. Sebastian feels the tension start to creep back in but returns Blaine’s hurried wave goodbye before Blaine is lost to the crowd of admirers and well-wishers again.

Sebastian turns his attention back to the nearly empty bottle in his hands and finishes it off, scratching at the paper label until it starts to tear and fall apart. He only gets a few minutes to fall back into his solitude before he’s jarred out of it again by the sound of knives clinking against champagne glasses. He turns around just as the guests start to call for a kiss, and his eyes find the newlyweds with ease, happily wrapped up in each other, lips pressed together. Sebastian feels his hands start to shake, unable to keep his nerves at bay any longer.

With stinging eyes and his heart in his throat, Sebastian turns back around and orders one more drink.

* * * * *

He ends up in the patio garden outside, on the ground and against the wall of the building. It’s much more quiet out here, the noise of the celebration inside muted and distant. His half-finished glass of scotch sits next to him on the ground and his tie hangs loose around his neck, the first few buttons of his shirt undone.

This is how Santana finds him, quiet and just shy of drunk enough and outside -- alone.

“I think they’re getting ready to leave soon,” she informs him. Sebastian doesn’t respond, doesn’t give her so much as a nod to indicate that he’s heard her. He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to go in there and pretend to be happy any more. He doesn’t want to be touched by Blaine right now. He doesn’t want to say goodbye. Thankfully, Santana doesn’t push the issue and sinks down on the ground next to him. He sees her offer him something in his peripheral vision, and when he looks over at her, his fingers itch toward the box of cigarettes she’s holding out. Quickly, he pulls one out of the box and holds it out for her to light, sinking back against the wall and taking a long, much-needed drag and watching the smoke spiral in front of them. “Look,” she sighs, “I know how you must be feeling --”

“No,” Sebastian interjects shortly, “you really don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Santana drawls, dry and sarcastic and more than a little impatient with him. “Have you been sharing your sordid secrets with anyone else the last four years?”

“No,” Sebastian allows, taking another drag, “but you’re not the only one who knows.”

“Really?” she says, sounding skeptical.

Another drag, and Sebastian answers with his exhale of smoke. “Kurt knows.”

He can tell that Santana’s tensed up a little without even needing to look over at her. “Does Blaine?” she asks after a moment of hesitation. Sebastian shakes his head. “Okay, so then my point still stands,” she argues. “I’m the only one who really _knows_ \--”

“ _No_ ,” Sebastian says again, much more forcefully this time. He turns to look at her, unable to keep the ache in his chest at bay any longer, and he lets the cigarette burn between his fingers. “No, you don’t. You have absolutely no idea what it’s like to watch the one person you love more than anyone else in the world _marry someone else_ , Santana.”

And for once, Santana seems to be at a loss for words because she doesn’t say anything. Sebastian can’t handle that lingering look of pity somewhere in her eyes so he looks away and takes another long drag of his cigarette. His hands are shaking again and he can feel the sobs he won’t let go rattle and boomerang around the inside of his chest, desperate to get out. “Do you… want to talk about it?” Santana offers, and god, it’s so unlike her that Sebastian almost laughs.

Almost.

“Fuck, _no_ ,” he bites out, the words tangled up in a gasp and a laugh and sob that doesn’t make any sense at all. And then finally, _finally_ , some of the tears spring to his eyes, unable to be kept in any longer. He hastily wipes at his eyes with the knuckles of his free hand and tries taking another drag of his cigarette. “Can you just -- will you go back inside and let me know when they’re gone? I don’t want to say goodbye to Blaine. Once he leaves, I can go home.”

Sebastian can hear her intake of breath, but Santana doesn’t say anything. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her reaching out for his hand, but he jerks away, unable to look her in the eye. Santana sighs but pushes herself to her feet, and Sebastian waits until she’s back inside before he rolls his shoulders back uncomfortably.

Sebastian doesn’t want to be comforted. He doesn’t want to be consoled. He doesn’t want to be pitied. He knows that this is some sort of twisted, self-inflicted torture, his comeuppance for hurting Blaine, for refusing to march to the beat of his own drum. This -- this feeling in his chest, this burning ache that stabs and twists and sets him on fire and drowns him, it’s what he deserves. Because it doesn’t _matter_. Blaine’s speech at graduation last year didn’t apply to Sebastian because it’d been too late for him by then, regardless of the changes he’d been preparing to make. Sebastian is not kind and he doesn’t deserve kindness. He fits into Blaine’s world but doesn’t really _belong_ , and Sebastian will (has to) settle for some sort of melancholy, mis-matched existence.

Because this? This is the punishment for Sebastian’s crime.

And this?

This is when he learns how to take it like a man.

* * * * *


End file.
